Family Dysfunction
by Nevermore
Summary: The fleet has finally reached safety, and the admiral is missing someone left behind. Post2.20, S3 spec with no known spoilers.


Battlestar Galactica 2003 is a copyright of the Sci Fi Channel. Battlestar Galactica is a trademark and copyright of Universal Studios. Ron Moore re-imagined Glen A. Larson's original idea; but then again, most people who would be reading this already know that. My use is in no way intended to challenge or infringe upon any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned or any other copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended.

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**Author's Note:** Blame **Elentari2**. She's the one who inspired the plot bunny.

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**Family Dysfunction**  
by  
**Nevermore**

Admiral William Adama leaned back and rubbed his temples, trying to will himself into a state of rest. He still wanted to be up in C.I.C., but Lee was right – he wasn't a machine, and twenty straight hours in a high-tension situation was enough.

Adama replayed events in his head, from the initial panic of cylon basestars appearing out of the surrounding murk on the DRADIS screen, to the absolute chaos of the fleet's retreat from New Caprica. _She's all alone down there,_ he thought, any trace of weariness evaporating from his bones, his will to get back to the C.I.C. invigorating him with anxious energy.

He knew what Lee would say: It was her decision to leave._ She could have stayed, she probably could have prevented all of this, but she didn't. She knew it would have been wrong, so she kept her mouth shut and went down to New Caprica to build a new life with our people._

Adama poured himself a drink and took a few moments to look at himself in the mirror. There were a few more wrinkles in his face, and his uniform was stretched a little more at the waist, but otherwise he didn't feel he'd changed much in the past year. _Has it been that long?_ he asked himself, remembering Laura Roslin's face as clearly as if he'd seen her earlier that day. _I wonder if she has a few extra wrinkles, now, too,_ he pondered, even in the safety and privacy of his own mind knowing better than to also wonder if she'd put on as many extra pounds as he had. That thought provided a few moments of amusement, but then his mind was right back on task.

For the time being, he felt the fleet was as safe as it could be. They'd jumped six times since fleeing New Caprica, changing direction every time. They were now a light year along the Z-axis from the central plane of the galaxy, safe in empty space where he doubted the cylons would look. The ships' captains were running diagnostics and trying to determine whether everyone was accounted for, and Adama was supposed to be coming up with the first phases of a plan to return to New Caprica to rescue their people.

_People who should have known better than to go down there,_ he fumed. Again he thought back to Laura's actions a year earlier. _She could have tried to keep the presidency,_ he reflected, remembering her refusal to exploit a rigged election. Adama knew why she had done what she did, and he admired her for her decision, but he also knew he'd spent every day since then wondering when all of humanity would pay the price for her character and integrity.

_She could have stayed on the ships, too,_ he considered. He knew that Laura had gone down to the settlement because as long as she remained on the ships and Baltar lived below, the people would be divided. _So she implicitly endorsed his asinine decision to remain on New Caprica. And did it help us?_ he wondered. _Were we better off united on a defenseless planet than we would have been divided with at least a sizeable portion of our population here on the ships, where they could have run when the cylons showed up?_

"We're responsible," Adama confessed to his empty quarters. "Like irresponsibly indulgent parents, we allowed humanity to flee the specter of years of adversity on the ships in favor of the comparative comfort – but inherent danger – of settling on a new world. We let them take the easy way out. It may have been Baltar's half-ass plan that put us in the situation, but Laura and I stood by and let it happen."

_And now that everything's fallen apart, we have to take the lead again. Now the people see why we opposed Baltar's plan for colonization… Now we have to save them from their shortsightedness._ As determined as he was, Adama was also surprised at what he really wanted more than anything else was just a few minutes alone with Laura, to bounce his ideas off of her and take strength from her boundless confidence.

A knock on the door knocked Adama from his reverie, and he smiled, thankful for the distraction from his thoughts.

"Admiral," Lee said as soon as Adama opened the door, finding his son standing outside.

"What are you doing here?" Adama asked.

"Is this the self-help group for dysfunctional families and insubordinate officers?" Lee asked with a forced grin that conveyed more misery than mirth.

"You plan on being insubordinate?" the admiral asked.

"By only asking about that part of my question, are you implying that you agree we're dysfunctional?" Lee countered.

"Come on in," Adama said. "Can I get you a drink?"

"No," Lee said. "I just… I don't know. I know I should be back on _Pegasus_, but--"

"We're out of harm's way," the admiral grunted. "It's probably time to start talking about what we need to do before we're ready to go back."

"And that's all done face-to-face," Lee said, finishing Adama's thought for him. "Can't put battle plans over the wireless."

"No, we can't."

"So where do we begin?"

"I don't know," Adama admitted, struggling to keep his mind focused. "Part of me wants to rush back right now, but…"

"Yeah," Lee agreed. "I was on with her when the cylons showed up, you know."

"With Laura?"

"No," Lee answered. Adama saw the wheels spinning behind Lee's eyes, and moments later he saw the light of realization.

"So you were on with Kara?" Adama asked, trying to change the topic.

"I'm sure President Roslin is okay," Lee said.

"Kara, too," Adama agreed.

"Yeah."

"Yeah…" the admiral echoed. "Dysfunctional families," he muttered, punctuating his words with a frustrated sigh.

"Very dysfunctional," Lee commented. "Let's figure out how to get them back."

_Fin_


End file.
